IKEA
by No Hassle Castle
Summary: Castle is bored, and IKEA is on sale. Beckett doesn't like where this is going... Post-Always, because I'm a cool kid. First Castle fic, so yey!


Title: IKEA

Pairing: Rick C. /Kate B.

Rating: This is my first legitimate T fanfic. I'm an inexperience carrot.

Summary: Castle's bored. And IKEA is on sale. Beckett doesn't like where this is going…

Disclaimer: I don't own Castle. Sadly. The idea of this story isn't mine either; claiming rights to it would only mean an original idea was incepted into my mind. No, I got this from "(500) Days of Summer". Sorry. Enjoy. We've got a long time to make do with fanfics. Cheers! This is also my first Castle fic, so yey!

* * *

I look up for what feels like the hundredth time this afternoon. Why does he have to do that?

"Castle," I say, half-frustrated, half-amused.

He looks back at me, feigning innocence as he put the pen down. "What?"

"The pen clicking, Rick," I say, going back to the paperwork. "You know how I don't like it when you do that."

"Right, sorry," he says. Castle brings out his mobile, and starts toying with it. I roll my eyes as I hear the start-up for that infernal Angry Birds game.

"Castle," I say again.

He pockets his phone, and sighs. "Can we go out? Please? Kaaaaaate."

"I have paperwork to do, Castle, because unlike you, this is my job," I say, tilting my head and looking at him through my eyelashes. I soften when my eyes meet his blue ones. I huff. "Okay, fine."

I get up and reach for my coat, but he's ahead of me by a beat, helping me into it the next second. I'll never get used to him helping out like this. I guess I've got to some time soon now, because we've been sorta openly dating in the precinct for months. But being the type of person who was never comfortable being anybody's girlfriend, this makes me feel more than comfortable. It feels like home with Rick.

"You ready?" Castle says, a glint in his eye. I nod in response. "Okay, good, because I'm bored."

He takes my hand as we ride the elevator, and I grin to myself. Never gets old. Rick Castle. For a boyfriend. That's surreal. It still is after half a year.

We were walking down the street when Castle looks up at me expectantly. "What?"

"Guess what's on Sale?" he says, halting his steps in the center of a moving crowd. I stop with him, eyebrows raised. "IKEA."

I laugh, grabbing his shirt's collar and tugging it gently. "And you think we should go?" He nods, a bright smile on his face. "You're such a child, Castle."

"Oh, c'mon," he groans. "It's always fun in IKEA. You look at faucets, beds, sheets, plates… We don't even have to buy anything—unless you want to, because that's fine, too. Pleaaaase, Beckett."

I give him a quick peck on the lips and say, "Let's go," before I change my mind.

* * *

The cold breeze coming from the air vents above the double doors at IKEA wash down my face, and I couldn't help but smile. I always loved IKEA—but I wasn't going to let Rick know that.

He tugs on my hand, like a child. "Kate, Kate, Kate," he says, dragging me to the coasters on a counter. "Oh my god, look at this."

He holds up a coaster with the Firefly logo on the front. I grin and take it from him, putting it back in the pile. "I always thought of you as a Doctor Who type of guy."

"What are you talking about? You know I aim to misbehave. Mal Reynolds is my spirit animal," he says, wagging his eyebrows at me.

I don't even question him anymore when he drags both of us to the couches. He plops onto one, pulling me onto his lap.

I giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck. This side of Castle never fails to amuse me. I love being a child with him. I've fallen so hard for this man, and by the way I can feel myself looking at him now, I hope he knows.

I lean down and press my lips against his, fingers tangling in his always perfectly groomed hair. Well, it won't be now, not with my hands running through it repeatedly. His hands settle on my hips, drawing smooth circles on them with his thumbs. He pulls away when I run my tongue along his bottom lip, a fake shocked look on his face.

"Detective Beckett," he says, pretending to be appalled, "we are disturbing the peace in this public venue."

I rub his earlobe with my index and my thumb, looking straight into his eyes. "I really couldn't care less."

That earned me a crooked smile, and I smile back at him, lightly biting my bottom lip. "Kate—"

"I'm sorry," somebody intrudes. Rick and I both look up in surprise, thinking it was someone from IKEA telling us to stop the disorderly conduct, "but are you Richard Castle?"

I stop myself from heaving a sigh, as a slip off Castle's lap and onto the couch cushion next to him. He crosses his legs, and I bite my lip, knowing what he's trying to hide.

He looks up to the kind-looking woman and nods, lips pressed into a tight line. "Yes, I am Richard Castle," he says, lifting his hand to shake hers. "How are you doing?"

She hyperventilates for half a second before whipping out a copy of Frozen Heat from her bag and practically shoving it up his face with a Sharpie in her hand.

"Would you mind?" she says. She looks at me briefly, and does a double take. "You're Nikki Heat, aren't you? Oh my God!"

"This is Detective Kate Beckett," Castle says, signing her book quickly. He gets up, as I do, and holds on to my waist. "If you would excuse us… Um, you have yourself a great day."

We walk away from the clearly flustered woman in front of the couch. I stifle my sigh again, inconspicuously leading him to one of the less crowded show rooms.

"Sorry," he says, his lips next to my ear.

I turn to look at him, and shrug noncommittally. "I know," I say. "Don't worry about it, Rick, I'm used to it." I offer him a smile and a pat on the cheek. "I'm dating one of New York's most eligible bachelors; I think I know what competition I have."

"There is _no _competition, Kate," he says, walking on with me.

I stop in front of the bed with the complete set-up of sheets and décor. I collapse onto it fluidly. Castle smiles at me from where he stands, kneeling on the bed, crawling towards me.

"I thought you didn't want to go to IKEA," he says, hovering over me.

I wind my arms around his neck and shake my head. "I changed my mind," I say. "Look at how much fun we're having."

"Oh, clearly, Detective," he says, slowly planting kisses along my jaw. "What am I going to do with you?"

My breath hitches in my throat, fingers tightening over the collar of his shirt. "Nothing you're not supposed to do in public, Rick," I say, attempting to keep the composure in my voice.

Then he hits that spot with his skilled mouth, right where my ear and my jaw meet, and I gasp audibly. I lift his face off the crook of my neck and pull him to me, kissing him, hard. His kisses were hungry and so were mine. And when his tongue skims along my bottom lip, I grant him access without much of a second thought.

My hands move into his hair, and his skim down my side, settling on where the operation scar was, and I gasp again. I feel his leg push mine apart, settling between my legs.

"Rick," I almost-moan into his ear, a silent cry for him to stop. "We can't—We can't, not here."

He stays on my neck for another moment, before he raises his head and exhales. His eyes are dark with desire, and his lips are faintly swollen, and I bet mine looks the same. He sighs in frustration and hefts himself off the bed.

"To the loft, then?" he says, offering a hand to pull me up from my back.

I grin, "To the loft."

* * *

Ha, there you go. I'm actually happy with it. This is the first time I wrote anything like that. Um. I always found it awkward writing with ~racy~ themes. But, meh, I like how it turned out. Thanks for reading it, too. Review it! It would make my day


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